


This Title Could Be A Little More Sonic

by Araelle105



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen, Humoristic, Light Angst, POV First Person, POV Original Female Character, Set between Martha and Donna, Ten shows people they are importante, Timey-Wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Araelle105/pseuds/Araelle105
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suddenly felt someone tightly grip my hand, and Mr. Smith whispered in my ear:</p><p>"Run."</p><p>***<br/>Or the one where a madman with a box grants a teenager only one trip anywhere in time and space. But we all know that when the Doctor and his companion start running it never stops...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Title Could Be A Little More Sonic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pascaler23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pascaler23/gifts).



> Hello! This is my first Doctor Who work in progress, so feedback would be really appreciated ^.^  
> Also, I'm francophone, so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes in my text.  
> I hope you like it! (and thanks to my dear friend, pascaler23, who reviewed my work!)

“Oh, please sit down!”  
  
We all took our seats, a bit surprised by the man standing in front of us.  
  
“Do they always make you do that? Stand up when a teacher enters?” he asked, glancing down at us as if we were poor things without a brain.  
  
We all looked at each other, taken aback, one of us finally raising her hand and answering as he pointed her:  
  
“Yeah, it’s kind of to show respect…”  
  
“Well, you don’t need to that with me,” he exclaimed to my content. I really hated to get up at the start of every class just to sit back again.  
  
“So! My... name... is... John... Smith,” he started, as he wrote his name on the whiteboard. “And I’ll be replacing your usual English teacher,” he finished as he swivelled around to face us, tucking his hands in the pockets of his brown with blue stripes trousers.  
  
“Where is Mrs. Tate?”, asked my friend, Gen.  
  
“I believe she had an accident and broke her leg. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine, she just needs to rest…”  
  
“For how long will you be replacing her?” Gen added.  
  
“For the time it'll take,” he vaguely answered, putting on his glasses to read the notes spread out on his desk.  
  
My friend and I looked at each other a bit concerned. This new teacher seemed nice and all, but with the eminent exams and our oral presentations coming up, it wasn’t the perfect time to have a stranger teaching us.  
  
“So, I see you’ve been studying English literature,” Mr. Smith said, taking off his glasses. “I really appreciate Agatha Christie’s work myself. She’s such a wonderful woman,” he trailed off, looking in the distance, as if he was plunging in his memories.  
  
“You know she died like ages ago, right?,” someone commented.  
  
“Yes, sadly,” he whispered.  
  
“So how can you say she’s a wonderful woman?” continued the very sceptical girl.  
  
“Oh! Well... I mean... Based on her books,” he stammered, passing a nervous hand on the back of his head.  
  
“Anyways!” The teacher then exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Let’s talk about... Charles Dickens! I’m such a fan of his work!”  
  
The class passed so swiftly and agreeably we all awed in sadness when the bell rang. Mr Smith had just the perfect way of making the usual slightly dull subject actually fascinating. He knew tons of fun facts about the authors we studied. And the way he talked was hilarious; his British accent was so unusual for us and his expressions (he always started his lessons by exclaiming: ‘Allons-y!’) were so funny we were always laughing during class. English had soon became the favourite subject of all the students, except for the ones Mr Smith kept teasing, to my content.  
  
One April morning, Mr Smith was explaining what was the “stream of consciousness” (he definitely had a talent to speak out loud his stream of consciousness) when he suddenly stop in mid-sentence and said:  
  
“Everybody shut up!”  
  
“I didn’t say anything!” protested Dean, the troublemaker of our class, who was sitting behind me.  
  
“Well, now, shut up!”  
  
We all closed our mouths, worryingly looking around each other, while Mr. Smith was listening, his tongue pressed on his upper teeth, his eyebrows lifted.  
  
We suddenly heard a scratching sound that seemed to come from the stove on the side of the window.  
  
My friend whispered:  
  
“What’s that?”  
  
Mr. Smith ignored her and got out from the inner-pocket of his vest a weird metallic device. He activated it, producing a blue light at its end and making a strange sound, as he got closer to the heat-conveyer. He seemed pretty excited, mumbling to himself. I turned to look at my two best friends in concern, and they seemed as puzzled about the situation as me.  
  
Shyly, I asked:  
  
“Sir? What’s going on?”  
  
“I believe there is something in here,” he muttered.  
  
“Something, sir?”  
  
He didn’t answered, and some of the students started getting up from their seats, a bit panicked.  
  
Suddenly, Mr. Smith jumped and yelled:  
  
“Ah! It’s moving!”  
  
The sound of claws scraping metal came closer to where I was sitting, against the stove. The English teacher enthusiastically followed the sound, and pushed my desk on the side to scan the stove with his device. He then ran to the back of the class, and pressed himself against the wall, trying to listen what was going on inside.  
  
“Is it... In the wall, sir?” Sam asked, backing up from it.  
  
“Oh yes…,” he answered, a wide smile on his face.  
  
“But is it dangerous, sir?” inquired someone, sounding terrified and confused.  
  
“Believe me, you don’t want it to get out of the wall.”  
  
We all looked at each other in real terror. What the hell was going on? I decided it was time to take action. I got up and firmly said:  
  
“Sir. If our lives are at risk, maybe we should get out of here and call the police…”  
  
He didn’t even look at me, got out a stethoscope from his pocket (what was he doing with that there?), placed the earpiece in his ears and pressed the chest piece against the wall.  
  
After listening carefully and putting the stethoscope back in his pocket, he turned and said:  
  
“Ok, evacuation is imminent. I think the thing is trying to get out.”  
  
At that all the students got up on their feet and started panicking, trying to make their way to the door.  
  
“Calm down! Please! I'm here to help!”, Mr. Smith tried to said over the brouhaha of scared teenagers.   
  
However, everyone ignored the teacher, so he got really angry and yelled:  
  
“EVERYONE! Finger on mouth!”  
  
Without knowing why, we all listened to him and placed our fingers like he wanted.  
  
He then said, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking on his heels:  
  
“That’s better. Now, it’s Gabrielle, right?” he asked me, staring straight into my eyes. “Go pull the fire alarm, it’s the only way to evacuate the school without losing our time with explanations.”  
  
“But if I trigger the fire alarm and there is no fire, won't I have a fine or something?”  
  
“Look, I’m giving you the authorisation, I’m part of the government, so do as I say.”  
  
Saying that, he pulled out a badge and showed it to me. I didn’t have any time to read it, but it seemed official enough for me to run in the corridor and pull the nearest trigger, starting the alarm. Almost immediately, all the classes started to get empty, but instead of following the flow of students, I returned to my classroom.  
  
Mr. Smith was still there, scanning the wall again with his silver device.  
  
“Uhm, sir? Shouldn’t you get out too?”  
  
“Nah, I’m here to get rid of these beasts…”  
  
“But you’re just an English teacher…”  
  
“Oh, no, trust me, I’m much more than that,” he answered looking up at me. “But you should be out of here,” he commented, frowning.  
  
“Yes, but I was thinking of something; once the staff realised there is no fire, they are going to send back the students in class. Which means you have, like, fifteen minutes to get rid of… whatever’s in that wall.”  
  
“Yes, you’re right... Good thinking,” he said, a bit lost in his thoughts, a tiny smile on his face. “Here, take this and show it to the headmistress,” he said, walking through the scattered desk, handing over his badge to me. “Tell them it’s a mandate from the government giving me the authority here.”  
  
“But it’s not a mandate... It’s your badge,” I commented, taking it.  
  
“Psychic paper. It’s actually blank. But it makes people see what you want them to see.”  
  
“Nice,” I commented, smiling.  
  
He just grinned back before turning again to the wall.  
  
I ran through the school and got out from the reception, where all the teachers were standing.  
  
“Gabrielle, what are you doing here?” the headmistress asked, concern on her face.  
  
“I was with Mr. Smith,” I tried to answer with authority, slightly panting. “He ordered me to tell you that there is a… situation in the school, and that he is here to take care of it. He works for the government, he’s some kind of under-cover… secret agent or something. Here’s his mandate.”  
  
I showed her the paper, but made sure she didn’t see it for too long, so that she didn’t discover it was actually blank.  
  
“Very well. What does this… secret agent wants us to do?” she inquired.  
  
“To keep the students and all personnel out of the school until he says it’s safe.”  
  
“Very well. Gabrielle! Where are you going?” the headmistress shouted as I was running back to the school.  
  
“Don’t worry! I’ll be with him, nothing bad can happen!” I shouted back, as I pushed the door and ran back to the fourth floor, hoping Mr. Smith was still there.

 

But when I entered the classroom, I immediately knew something was wrong; there was an enormous hole in the back wall, bits of gyps spread across the floor, dust covering the desks and chairs. Whatever did this was now on the loose, and that couldn't mean anything good. And Mr. Smith, the only person who actually seemed to know what that thing was, was no where. And I was alone. With something dangerous in the school. Great.  
  
I got out of the corridor, and called for my teacher’s name several times, but he didn’t answered. Suddenly, I heard a growl coming from behind. Slowly turning around, even if I didn’t want to, I discovered in front of me the most disgusting thing I have ever seen.  
  
The creature was super flat (probably to fit in the walls) and had very, very long claws. Its skin was grey, as if it hadn’t seen daylight for ages. The thing had no eyes, but it seemed to have a pretty good sense of smell, for in was sniffing the air and dangerously getting closer to me.  
  
I suddenly felt someone tightly grip my hand, and Mr. Smith whispered in my ear:  
  
"Run."  
  
We swiftly made our way towards the staircase, but another beast bursted out from a wall, so Mr. Smith firmly directed us towards the other stairs at the end of the hallway. The two beasts were following us as we hurdled down the stairs.  
  
We went to the first floor, and the English teacher yelled:  
  
“To the kitchen! Allons-y!”  
  
As I dashed to that destination, I saw him from the corner of my eye getting out his silver device and passing it along the door.  
  
When we were in the cafeteria, he told me:  
  
“I locked the doors, it should hold them off for a while, but they’ll probably get out through the walls…”  
  
“What are these things?!?” I panicked, out breath.  
  
“They are called Tamollefs. They come from another planet,” he answered, as he started to search for something in the cupboard of the kitchen.  
  
“Another planet? What the hell?!? How could they be from another planet??”  
  
“Well, they obviously had a spaceship, maybe it crashed, or they got lost. So they decided to settle down here,” explained Mr Smith, as he got out a huge pack of chicken breasts from one of the freezers.  
  
“But are they dangerous?” I asked, looking at the walls around us.  
  
“Noooo... Well, yes... Well, it depends,” vaguely said the professor, as he ripped open the wrapping of the chicken. “I mean, here, they can be a threat, since they are scared and they don’t know where they are. Plus, they must be very hungry…”  
  
“Is that why you are getting stocks of chicken?” I inquired, as he poured all the chicken breasts in a large pot.  
  
“Yup. Did you noticed the Tamollefs’ eyes?” he asked, looking up at me.  
  
“Hum... Well, they seemed blind. Actually their face looked a lot like a mole’s.”

 

“Exactly! And what do moles hate?”

 

“Daylight… Is that why they stayed in the walls?”

 

“Exactly!” he exclaimed, as he started to drop a chicken breast every meter as he backed up towards the stairs that lead to the ground floor.

 

“But why did they got out now? It’s still bright outside,” I commented, as I was following him.

 

“I think they noticed I was there.”

 

We were now descending the stairs, still making a trail of chicken.

 

“How come?” I continued. “Do they know you?”

 

“I don’t think so. But they understood that I know them.”

 

“Is that why you came to our school in the first place?” I inquired, as we made our way to the level ground of the school.

 

“Yup!” he exclaimed, brightly smiling at me.

 

“But how did you know they were here?” I asked as I opened the door to enter the entrance hall.

 

“I tracked down their ship.”

 

“Their spaceship. I can’t believe this…”

 

He just smiled at me as he placed the last chicken breast on the floor.

 

“So are you sure they are going to follow the track?”

 

“Oh yes,” he answered. “They are starving!”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“They’ve been stealing the food from the cafeteria for several nights, but the staff improved the locks for the cupboards. The cooks have no idea who did took all the food, but it worked, since the Tamollefs stopped stealing. So now, they are starving. And their hunger is beyond their fear of light.”

 

“So, are we setting up a trap or something?” I inquired.

 

“Yes. If we can lead them outside, we can be sure they are going to faint, for they won’t be able to bear the sunlight,” he explained, as he looked in the staircase to see if the aliens were coming. “They're on their way,” he said, closing swiftly the door.

 

“Now,” he exclaimed, pacing in circles. “How will we lead them outside? Think!”

 

“We don’t have enough chicken to continue the trail…” I started to list.

 

“Nope!”

 

“They won’t follow us outside…?”

 

“No, they aren’t hungry anymore…”

 

“What?!? Does that mean they could have eaten us??” I panicked.

 

He completely ignored me, and started to rub his hair intensely, still walking in circles as he said:

 

“Come on! Think! Think!”

 

The door flung open and one of the Tamollefs came out, sniffing a new piece of chicken.

 

“Professor…”

 

“Not now, Gabrielle!”

 

“But I think I have an idea…”

 

“Not now I said!” he shouted, exasperated.

 

“But listen to me!” I yelled even louder. “The fire hose there, we could use it,” I said pointing the hose for emergencies on the wall behind me.

 

“How?”

 

“Well the flow must be strong enough to push them out, no?”

 

“That’s insane!” he protested.

 

“Sorry,” I mumbled, pitifully.

 

“No, I love it!” he exclaimed, a huge smile spread across his face.

 

The two beasts were now fighting for the last chicken.

 

“Ok, Gabrielle, go open the doors, I’ll take care of the hose!” the professor ordered.

 

“Yes, Captain!” I cheerfully said.

 

The Tamollefs started walking towards me as I opened the glass doors while Mr. Smith started to unroll the hose and opened it. The water flowed out in a strong spurt. The English  teacher aimed for the creatures and they immediately were blasted out of the school. The moment they hit the sunlight, they cried out in pain and soon were knocked out and fell on the ground.

 

Mr. Smith closed the hose and ran outside.

 

“We did it!” I exclaimed, jumping on my feet.

 

He just bursted in laughter, as the teachers, policemen and firefighters came running towards us.

 

“I never told you to call the emergencies…,” commented Mr. Smith, slightly frowning.

 

“That wasn’t me,” I said, concerned by his sudden seriousness.

 

The policemen and firemen gathered around the two Tamollefs, making emergency calls, exclaiming their disbelief at the sight of aliens. I felt a teacher grabbing my arm to pull me away from the turmoil, but I yanked myself out of his grip and went to ask Mr. Smith:

 

“What is going to happen to them?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ll have to make sure the government helps them get home.”

 

“So... You won’t be teaching here anymore?”

 

“No,” he sighed, looking away. “I might have not told you all there is to know about me…”

 

“What, are you some kind of secret agent that travels from school to school to track down aliens?” I teased.

 

“No, not quite. It’s bigger than that.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

He opened his mouth to answer, but a police officer came in between us and started asking questions to Mr. Smith about what had happened. A teacher came again to drag me away, and this time, I let him do so, too sad to even resist.

 

 


End file.
